


Rewired and Rewritten

by Articray200



Category: Toontown Online
Genre: Bossbots - Freeform, Cashbots - Freeform, Cog-ish Toon, Cogs - Freeform, Gen, I declare this a great injustice, Lawbots - Freeform, Philosophy, Sellbots - Freeform, Toon-ish Cog, Toons - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2019-10-31 16:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17853125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Articray200/pseuds/Articray200
Summary: Bono Bixby was a strange Toon, but not in the way most would think.





	1. Cog-ish

Bono Bixby was a strange Toon, but not in the way most would think. Sure, he had an odd case of wearing his shirts backwards and digging holes in his backyard for fossils, but didn’t everyone get those itches sometimes? Sure, maybe that one time he spent the day eating his birthday cakes instead of lobbing them at Cogs was peculiar, but Bixby figured it was entirely normal to have a sweet tooth.

No, the thing that made Bixby strange was his constant, unrelenting desire to talk the ears off of quite literally everyone around him. You’d think he was a Telemarketer with how fast his mouth ran about anything that came to mind. To Bixby, that wasn’t too strange—he was an inventor as well as a philosopher. As such, his job was to question everything around him at all times. Sometimes it went to his head, the crazy dog. Bixby would ask why the walls were a certain color, why he woke up on a particular side of the bed one day—heck, he’d ask why Doodles hopped instead of skipping! He never understood why, but this quirk caused the other Toons around him to _steer clear at all costs_. If he trapped one in a conversation, they were likely to get tongue tied trying to answer his questions. Bixby could vividly recall one particular question he asked a young Toon.

  _“So why exactly do we wage war the way we do?” Bixby asked._

 " _What… do you mean?” the Toon responded._

  _“The cogs are only able to make us sad, yet they combust with only a few gags.” Bixby leaned forward, putting a hand to his chin. “They can be replaced, not rebuilt—I’ve closely examined the designs and the damage in the aftermath of every Cog battle I’ve participated in. It’s simply not cost efficient to rebuild them.”_

When the Toon uttered the phrase “cost efficient”, the duck he spoke to tilted his head and gave a look so visibly bewildered that you’d think Bixby had grown a second head. He was… a very “Cog-ish” Toon. Bixby did very “Cog-ish” things like ask if the buildings Cogs created were truly harmful in terms of appearance, claiming that advertisement was a critical point of business. Of course, he immediately followed it up by claiming that “signs on buildings were technically a form of advertisement as well” before anyone could shoo him away.

Despite these mannerisms, he wasn’t terrible to be around at all. In fact, he was funny in his own right! There were many moments Toons could recall that still give them the chuckles to this day. A Cog, namely a Bottom Feeder, had ambushed him one day. As Bixby turned his back to see the Cog begin soaking his stamp with ink, he opened his mouth. All other Toons went quiet. 

_“Pardon, may I have a word?” Bixby clasped his hands together._

_The Cog paused, eyeing the dog closely._

_“I have been searching the streets of Donald’s Dreamland for the longest time, and I have failed to find a proper answer to this question of mine.” He smiled softly. “You’re politically-inclined, yes? Do assist me with this!”_

_Somehow, the words had reached the cog. Its gaze shifted from hostile to curious. It responded._

_“What’s your question?” It sniffed._

_Lawbots were always Bixby’s favorite type of Cogs. They dealt with matters that would make Toons gag—pun entirely intended—more so than usual at the thought of whatever a Cog would do in their free time. The dog grinned, and his eyes lit up in a way that made the Bottom Feeder wary at what it just got itself into._

_“Would you consider your job one of duty or consequence?” Bixby tilted his head._

_The cog blinked, stunned at the words that came out of Bixby’s mouth._

_“... I’m sorry?”_

_“Do you consider yourself a dutiful person?”_

_“I suppose I do, yes.”_

_“Interesting! Then what is your duty?” Bixby put a hand to his chin, rubbing it. “More precisely, how do you know it’s your duty? Did someone impose it upon you? Did you find it yourself?”_

_That conversation ended with the Bottom Feeder shutting down. It didn’t explode, but its head sparked, spun around a good three times, and stopped once the Cog had shut itself down. Toons everywhere on the street almost died laughing. Bixby was just puzzled._

_“It was only a question.” The dog shrugged._

That was a conversation he thought about many times. He knew that the war between Toons and Cogs was spurred on and on due to the Cogs’ unrelenting pressure upon the playgrounds, yet what Bixby didn’t quite understand was… what started all of this? For a war to begin, someone has to strike first. So, Bixby often wondered who struck first. Through his research and prodding at authorities, his attention drew closer and closer to a cog known as “The Chairman.” Yet, he had hit a roadblock: there was simply no feasible way he could meet The Chairman. No… _direct_ way, that is.

During one of his toontasks, Bixby stepped into Lawbot Headquarters, raising his eyebrows at the shininess of it all. Certainly, it was well taken care of. The dog had been here before, but the sheer splendor of it still shook him right down to his feet. It was much cleaner than Sellbot Headquarters, a bit more organized than Cashbot Headquarters, and more appealing to look at than Bossbot Headquarters. He _did_ have to give the Chief Justice credit—the Cog understood how to properly compete.

With this thought in mind, he began to wonder about whether or not Cogs competed with one another. Did the idea of promotions and coworkers encourage even the Cog Bosses to compete with one another? Are they truly allied? Perhaps this was simply out of necessity—Cogs weren’t thought to have their own free will. It simply wasn’t in their coding.

With these thoughts in his head, he got sidetracked and decided to instead pull out a notebook and get to scrawling. He should have noticed the way the Cogs turned their head and saw a purple dog scribbling away, locked in his own world. He should have seen them approach and surround him in a swarm. Yet, everything became a shock as the Toon was apprehended and dragged away. He shouted and protested as Legal Eagles carried him off as though he weighed like a cardboard box. His shouts continued until he was carried inside of a building, and one of the Cogs snapped their head to him irritably.

“Hush!” It put a finger to its beak, squinting. “This is a courtroom, Toon.”

Bixby was ready to kick the Cog’s quarters to the moon, but there wasn’t much he could do. So, he got a look at the courtroom he was in. It was just as clean as outside of the building, and he could see a witness stand along with everything else he expected to see in a courtroom. The judging eyes of the Big Wigs and the Ambulance Chasers didn’t bother him—Bixby was familiar with the gaze from Toons already. He was set in a cage and raised up to the ceiling, left to overlook the entire room. He folded his arms and scowled; his notebook had been confiscated in his capture. He didn’t know whose hands it would fall into. Would they torch it? Would they tear it to shreds? The thought made him quake, and not the Cog attack “Quake”, either.

His thoughts were interrupted when a large door at the back of the courtroom opened. It sat just above a large, wooden platform inscribed with a rather pleasant design. Bixby only needed one look at the large treads that were first revealed before knowing who this was: the Chief Justice. In the judge’s robe, powdered wig, and blindfold, he looked as though he’d come into this room repeatedly since the beginning of time. Bixby wouldn’t call that an exaggeration in the slightest. Were Cogs able to look old? The Chief Justice certainly had an “old-ish” look to him. Maybe it was the wig… hair? Was it a part of the model or was it just an unnaturally large wig? Bixby was now wrapped up in another pointless thought process.

 “Your Honor, we’ve found this Toon trespassing about Lawbot Headquarters.” A Big Wig straightened, somehow managing to look haughty. “Will he stand trial?”

 The Cog Boss muttered something to himself, sniffing.

 “Y-Your Honor?” The Big Wig clasped his hands together, his stern face faltering.

 “Name.”

 Bixby could hear the sound of a large gear clunking noisily. Everyone in the room flinched. There was silence. The Chief Justice spoke again.

 “You, dog—your name.” He pointed a finger towards the cage. “Speak!”

 “Bono,” Bixby said, standing up, “Bono Bixby. Toon philosopher and inventor,”

 The name echoed in the Chief Justice’s mind, taking a moment to register. Bixby noticed that the Cog Boss stared at him as though the dog weren’t even there. Did the Chief see something behind him? The Cog tilted his head—no, he was looking straight at Bixby.

 “Bono Bixby,” Chief repeated, “Are you the same Toon that my Cogs spoke of a week ago?”

 Bixby raised his eyebrows at that. He immediately realized that the Cog was speaking of the Bottom Feeder that had shorted itself out trying to answer his question. He straightened, fixing the trench coat he wore around him, and nodded.

 “Yes, Your Honor,” Bixby responded.

 There was more silence from the Chief, seemingly processing the “Your Honor”. Bixby noticed that the Cog’s eyebrows softened a bit before furrowing again. There was the faint sense of confusion and curiosity in the Chief’s expression. He turned, and everyone violently flinched again. There was that horrid _CLANG_ that startled even the most powerful of Cogs. Still, they kept that unshaking gaze. The silence began to feel very uncomfortable.

 “This Toon will stand trial… but not now.” The Chief waved a dismissive hand.

 The Cogs had begun speaking, exchanging words of confusion, concern, and doubt. It was a Toon, they should be tried immediately! A crime was done, a trial must be had, and Bixby must be found guilty. These were some of the things the Chief Justice heard. The talking got louder, slowly escalating. The Cog Boss didn’t flinch. Instead—and Bixby took great care in watching—his formal expression shifted. His eyebrows scrunched, he sneered, and his shoulders hunched. Was he going to shout?

  _“ORDER IN THE COURT!”_

 The Cogs immediately silenced and stood straight, eyeing their boss attentively. Bixby was flat out _amazed_ at the drastic shift in emotion. As quick as the anger rose, it disappeared, and the Chief became stone-faced again.

 “Leave.” The judge cast a hand forward.

 And so, they did, complete silence hiding their shame. The Chief and Bixby were left alone in the courtroom.

 “... Bixby, was it?” the Chief suddenly spoke.

 There was that horrid screeching sound again. Bixby had begun to feel uneasy due to it. It sounded like the Chief would collapse at any moment.

 “Yes, and you are the Chief Justice if I recall correctly?” Bixby responded with a nod.

“You’d be correct, yes.”

 Bixby noticed that the robe adorning the Chief’s upper half wasn’t part of the model. Where did the Cogs get cloth? Likely provided by either the Sellbots or Cashbots. Perhaps Cashbots—they were likely to do anything profitable. The Chief reached into this robe somewhere and took out a small notebook. He opened it and, with a single finger, flipped to a page, inspecting the writing.

 “Their job is, technically, one of both duty _and_ consequence, Toon,” he uttered.

 Bixby raised his eyebrows, surprised that his question had been answered.

 “You and I have some talking to do.”

 


	2. Toon-ish

“Both of duty _and_ consequence you say?” Bixby asked.

 “Yes, both,” the Chief Justice answered, “I’m sure ‘duty’ needs no further clarification, but I can see from the expression on your face that you request it,”

 The Chief Justice was a lot more interesting than Bixby had expected. He knew Lawbots were very refined and had no time for small talk like Sellbots did, but this was a conversation that bore fruit! The first green light Bixby got was the Chief’s faint but eager will to continue speaking. Something about the way he gestured with his hands and eyed Bixby intently showed attentiveness and a focused mind. Bixby assumed that this Cog hadn’t gotten a meaningful talk in ages outside of the courtroom. _That_ was interesting.

He was mostly just pleased that he had his notebook returned to him. Like all other times, he was scribbling away in it, pleased at the amount of pages that were being taken up by his notes. He took a short moment to doodle a picture

 “You’re a participant in this war, aren’t you?” The Cog’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Wouldn’t you say it’s your duty as a Toon to battle Cogs and force them out?”

 “I would, yes,” Bixby agreed, “Should I not participate, I’d be called a ‘Cog-sympathizer’,”

 His face fell deadpan at the term. It was often thrown out when a Toon asked questions about whether or not they were being fair to the Cogs. After all, Cogs blew up while Toons simply went sad. Bixby thought that was basic reasoning, but apparently it wasn’t something that was often considered or though appropriate to think about. It angered the Toon how often things were glossed over for the sake of expediency and simplicity. Simple wasn’t always correct or, as Bixby would have it, fun! The Chief Justice huffed, the edges of his mouth twitching the moment he heard “Cog-sympathizer.”

 “Was… was that a _laugh,_ Your Honor?” Bixby’s eyes widened in shock.

 The Chief Justice waved a hand dismissively, turning his head to the side a bit.

 “No, I just couldn’t believe how ridiculous that sounded.” He raised his eyebrows. “How often do you hear that?”

 “Oh, not too often,” Bixby admitted, “It’s just a minority that says it. As you would expect, however, the smallest group—”

 “Is always the loudest, yes,” the Chief Justice answered.

 Bixby smiled wide—this was perhaps the most in-depth conversation he’d ever had with a Cog, and perhaps it was the first! He could have sworn he saw a smirk on the Cog Boss’s face. Certainly he couldn’t have been mistaken—the Chief Justice was massive! Still, he couldn’t recall it no matter how hard he tried. Then, without warning, that agonizing grinding sound, accompanied by clangs, returned. Bixby covered his ears and looked between the bars of the cage.

 “What _is_ that deafening noise!?” He shook his head. “I can barely hear!”

 It stopped, and Bixby realized it—that sound came up whenever the Chief Justice moved. The Cog huffed, and somehow Bixby could feel a pair of eyes on him. Even if the blindfold was there, the gaze still felt piercing as though he was being stalked. The sound started back up as the Cog moved over to a passage in the wall and disappeared.

The Chief Justice was a strange Cog. He was the quietest of the four Cog Bosses outside of court cases and acting as the word above all. Despite the reputation of the Cogs, he didn’t consider himself a tyrant by any means—that title went to the C.E.O. and the upper half of the Bossbot corporate ladder. He wasn’t the most charismatic—only the V.P. deserved that reward (despite the imbecility). He certainly wasn’t the most wealthy—the C.F.O. isn’t the Chief Financial Officer for any old reason, after all. No, the Chief Justice was the most _reasonable_ and _logical_. He was unshaken by things that would startle other Cogs—things that would irritate them and anger them—the Chief Justice had simply seen it all and managed to tolerate it. Losing to the defence was the only thing that got to him; he was quite the sore loser.

He supposed in that way, he was “Toon-ish.” The Chief Justice certainly thought of himself this way and had no trouble mulling this over many times. Cogs _did_ come to creation through Gyro Gearloose, after all, in the attempt to _help_ Toons. It’s only natural they’d retain some aspects of the colorful animals. Puns were one thing—he wasn’t sure if his Cogs realized that they belt them out every now and then, but they got a chuckle out of him. Not that the Chief Justice would admit that of course; they’d believe he was ill or on the verge of spontaneously combusting! But, yes, he laughed. That was definitely “Toon-ish.” And the more the Chief Justice thought it over, the more he realized how “Toon-ish” he actually was: his words that “I may be blind, but justice isn’t” was a joke and reference to the term “Justice is blind.” The Toons, of course, wouldn’t find it _hilarious_ , but the effort was there, and the Chief threw it out without batting an unseen eye.

He was a very “Toon-ish” Cog, and he supposed that was why his cases were all civil towards Toons. They were as fair as he could allow, clearly winnable, and never once did he try to rig them. He supposed that was the reason why he didn’t immediately begin the preparations for the trial of Bono Bixby. That, and the clear respect the Toon had for him. It felt strange to be referred as “Your Honor” by a _Toon_ of all things. His enemy—the thing he was meant to sadden was the thing that gave him respect. It was puzzling, but it had the Chief Justice curious, and the Cog needed to know more. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep Bixby in that cage—the Toons would clearly come for him eventually as they did everyone else—so he had to ensure that the Toon wouldn’t run off forever. He had to ensure that they would meet again.

Mingler Mail was both an efficient way of sending and receiving messages from Cogs. Though they had issues with encryption (due to Toons, of course), it was otherwise completely solid and couldn’t easily be tampered with. All the Chief Justice had to do was register a new account and give the username and password to Bixby. They could communicate as freely as they pleased! He briefly paused for a second, putting a hand to his chin. What was he _doing?_ If the Cogs found out about this… He shook his head and gave a determined expression at the monitor in front of him. Nobody would have to know, and the Chief Justice figured he was more than capable of covering his tracks. Would this wind up in a court case? Probably, but nobody needed to know he was the culprit. Sure, it was dishonest… but…

 “Your Honor, a word if I may?” a voice called. “B5-225, if you need identification.”

 The Chief Justice flinched, minimizing the application on the monitor. He glanced behind himself to see a Backstabber standing there, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. The Cog stood straight, facing his superior proudly. The Chief Justice gestured for the Cog to continue speaking.

 “I know this may be considered unethical, but in a recent conference—mandated by the Big Wigs, of course—it was decided that, for your sake, it would be best if you cast in a substitute for the oncoming trial.”

 The Chief Justice furrowed his eyebrows, sniffing. “ _What?_ ”

 The Backstabber shifted his feet, his proud stance faltering for a moment at the aloof reaction.

 “Pardon the boldness, but… you’re aware of your growing problem, yes?”

 The Cog Boss responded with a grunt. Of course, another discussion about _that_. The war between Toons and Cogs had been dragging on for years—every Toon could tell you that—yet nearly nobody mentioned the lull in-between. There was a moment of quietness that could almost be considered peace. For a while, it felt like Toons and Cogs minded their own business. There were a few scuffles as there naturally were during a war, but there was significantly less. It was like the world was slowly changing, and this was when the Chief Justice had gone through a change of his own.

As with any machine, parts got old and needed to be replaced, yet the Chief Justice barely went through any strenuous work compared to the other Cog Bosses. The Vice President always fell off of Sellbot Towers, the Chief Financial Officer got the occasional train every now and then, and the Chief Justice wanted no part of whatever the Chief Executive Officer was going through. Replacement gears and bolts specially designed for Cog Bosses were used up weekly—Toons could be merciless when they felt like it. Simply put, there was a scarce amount of parts for the Chief Justice, and the effects were showing.

 “Of course, how couldn’t I be?” The Chief shook his head. “I’ve already spoken my word on this. I refuse to sit idle.”

 That startling clang and grind whenever the Cog Boss moved was but one symptom. There were many others below the metal. It didn’t look difficult, but moving caused a strange pain and strained his circuits. Jumping during trials had completely stopped about a month back, and things only got easier for the Toons. Soon enough, he had slowed the amount of trials, and they were rarely ever heard occuring ever again. The trial of Bono Bixby would take a while to reach the Toons, but eventually the same predictable outcome would unfold. The Chief Justice was, reluctantly, ready for failure. Even if it pained him to face the Chairman and that bootlicking mongrel, the CEO, the outcome wasn’t what he should have been focusing on.

 “But, Your Honor—”

 “My word _is_ law, and I’ll see to it that _that_ stays true.” The Cog turned away. “If you have nothing more to say to me, be on your way. Make preparations for the upcoming trial. I don’t want another word of this.”

 The Backstabber raised a hand in protest, but he shut his mouth and took his leave. The Chief Justice reopened Mingler Mail and got to work.

It was a disaster, a predictable one.

Like every other trial, the Toons had taken and retained a strong advantage. Bixby overlooked it all as the Toons stormed around the courtroom, some stunning cogs while others gathered evidence. The dog could tell from the way they worked and cooperated that this was just another Tuesday to them all. He glanced over to the Chief Justice and saw the Cog Boss’ gaze tighten at the sight of it all. The Chief was, understandably, tired of losing. His shoulders hunched, and immediately, Bixby knew what was going to happen.

_A Spin Doctor, the prosecutor of this case, directed the court’s attention to the Chief Justice, who was already in the process of jumping. Though the Toons saw nothing wrong with this, as usual, the Cogs looked mortified. Soon enough, the Toons understood why._

  ** _CRASH_**

_It wasn’t just the sound of an arm falling off, it was the sound of an entire Cog collapsing. At first, a hand had fallen. Then came an arm. Soon, more parts. The clangs and clashing turned into a cacophony of disassembly. For a while, it felt like time stopped. The chattering in the courtroom had gone too silent for anyone to tell. A Toon stepped forward to inspect the damage, and the rest of the Cogs shoved them aside, scrambling for the Chief Justice in a panic. One of the Cogs had freed Bixby, telling him to leave as quick as he could. The philosopher thanked the Toons for ‘saving’ him, and the rescuers used their portable holes to leave._

_Bixby turned his head back to the Chief Justice, wondering if he should leave like the Cogs asked or stick around. Yet, he knew that if he stayed, Toons would wonder what he was doing. Ultimately, he decided to leave. The Cogs clearly didn’t want him around, and he supposed that was for the best. After all, he did have something entrusted to him by the Chief Justice himself. Flipping open his notebook, he turned to a page with much different handwriting on it._

**_Mingler Mail Memo Management Credentials_ **

**_Username: inCog — Password: InJustice_ **

**_Address — inCog@mingler.org_ **

  



	3. A New Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait- Please, I can explain!
> 
> I've been busy DMing D&D sessions for the past few weeks and I went overboard with the world-building again. Don't strangle me on sight please.

It had been weeks since Bono Bixby had last seen the Chief Justice. Ever since the incident back at Lawbot HQ, the streets had become quieter. Though Cog battles took place as they always did, Lawbots weren’t present by any means. It was like a missing piece of a puzzle; even if it was hard to notice at first, there was definitely something wrong if you’d only look closer. For Bixby, this feeling was prevalent everywhere he went. This was especially the case in The Brrrgh.

As Bixby stepped out of the tunnel and into Polar Place, a strange sort of quietness had taken over the area. You could hear a pen drop from the end of the street if you listened hard enough. The dog placed a hand over his mouth as he saw the street completely empty, the only sign of Cogs having been there being footprints in the snow. 

“It’s nearly a month now…” Bixby furrowed his brow. “Where have they all gone?”

Bixby decided to continue down the street, but there was nothing present aside from the sound of the blowing wind against his floppy ears. No Cog buildings, no metallic voices, just the remnants of footprints. 

“Glad I ain’t the only person out here,” a voice suddenly said.

Bixby spun around quickly, reaching into his gag pack. He relaxed upon seeing a rather short red cat standing there with a rather lax expression. Their hand sat on their hip, and their face was layered in frost, making them look much like a Toon popsicle! They had a rather small magnifying glass in their hands which they twirled every so often. Who was this Toon, and had they been standing out here all day? They weren’t even shivering! The Toon in question was quite small, but the burly, puffy brown coat they wore made them look a bit bigger (and rounder) than they actually were. 

“Name’s Mitch,” said the cat. “Professor Mitch Nozzlewiz, Toonish Detective.”

The cat tapped his magnifying glass on the side of his head, glancing both ways. There was something off about this Toon, but Bixby couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Well, the dog supposed he couldn’t be too hung up over it. After all, he had far more important things to do such as-

“I suppose you’re also snoopin’ around the Brrrgh for the Lawbies, eh?” 

Bixby’s schedule had suddenly created its own opening! The dog’s ears twitched in anticipation at what the cat had to say. Once Professor Nozzlewiz realized he had Bixby’s attention, he grinned and presented the man with a set of documents. Bixby furrowed his brow at the papers, flipping through them. Judging by the perfect prose, wry humor, and the hint of superiority, the Chief Justice had created these.

“But, how did you-?” Bixby’s jaw dropped.

“I have my ways, Mr. Bixby, and I just so happened to be informed that  _ you _ were the accused in the Chief Justice’s last known trial,” Professor Nozzlewiz said, adjusting his coat, “I trust that you’ll hang onto those—it wasn’t easy by any means to get ahold of them!”

“But, what’s  _ in _ these documents, Mr. Nozzlewiz?” Bixby’s nose twitched to shake off some of the falling snow.

“Well, if you’d really like to know-”

The cat stopped himself as he saw a group of Toons making their way down the street, heading towards the nearest playground. Nozzlewiz seemed to think for a moment before twirling his magnifying glass one last time and whispering past the back of his hand to Bixby.

_ “Check what’s on those documents. It’ll be less trouble for you if you do it in the privacy of your own home.” _

_ Ah _ , Nozzlewiz was aware of the fears some Toons got from other Toons investigating Cogs for unknown reasons. There was always that expectancy of trust between one another, one that Bixby certainly understood and expected himself. Heeding the professor’s warning, he used a teleport to his estate and locked himself away in his home.

The dog’s house was about what you’d expect from someone like Bono Bixby, a mess of papers, papers, and more papers. A good bit of them were cooking recipes that Bixby’s mother had created—recipes for pies, because why not—or memos from the various Toon Headquarters stationed around Toontown. There was the typical stack of toontasks he had organized by playground and reward, and just off to the side lay a small computer. It had collected dust so much that you’d think the device was decades old, though the keyboard was devoid of any specks. The computer itself was brand new, but Bixby had a strange dislike of online communication, preferring to send letters to those he wanted to message. It was a rather old-fashioned way of communication, but Bixby thought there was far more sincerity in a letter than in an email. That’s why when Bixby turned on that computer, he gave a brief sigh and shake of the head.

Bixby knew the website’s address: http://mingler.org/bb/index.php. He was taken to a page that looked quite dull and gritty, an interface that didn’t look well-kept or loved all that much. The background took on the appearance of rusting metal, giving the impression that the website was old and worn. Bixby shook his head at this; Cogs were people of routine and consistency, that much was clear. They were always a fan of monocolor, disliking anything bright or distinctly eye-catching. If something  _ did _ have color, it was much darker, washed-out, or maroon—Cogs tended to like maroon. 

* * *

 

**_MINGLERMAIL Memo Management_ ** _ offers impeccable memo services with bland and outdated interfaces for Cogs. Toons are NOT accepted. _

_ For assistance, please mingle with the Minglers at support@mingler.org. The response will eventually be shelved and then trashed within 3-5 business days. _

_ Enter your credentials to access memos: _

* * *

 

Bixby scratched his head at this. Did Cogs really enjoy out-of-date technology and bland appearances? Perhaps it was all part of maintaining an identity, but certainly one of them must get bored or tired or- Bixby realized he wasn’t thinking like how a Cog would think but rather how a Toon would. It was so easy to lose understanding when someone’s so used to thinking one way. No matter how Bixby tried to switch his logic around, the fact would remain: he was a Toon. Maybe a Cog-ish Toon, but a Toon nonetheless.

 

In Bixby’s hands were the credentials he’d been given by the Chief Justice, an act of—dare he say it—trust. The Cog  _ trusted _ him, or at least had some sort of interest in him to go to these lengths. The page made it obvious that Toons weren’t allowed, and yet the  _ Chief Justice _ , the Cog of reason and lawfulness, was willing to go against the law  _ just to talk with him _ . Bixby was flattered to no end. 

**Mingler Mail Memo Management Credentials**

**Username: inCog — Password: InJustice**

**Address — inCog@mingler.org**

**_PROCEED_ **

* * *

 

**LAWBOT BRANCH**

**inCog**

**There are currently 2 memos addressed to you.**

**Failure to check memos daily will result in immediate termination from employment.**

* * *

 

“Goodness,” said Bixby. “The Cogs are definitely the no-nonsense types...”

He could only imagine the frantic face of an Ambulance Chaser as the Cog hastily checked his memos in what was only  _ one way _ of keeping his job. Where did Cogs go when they were fired? Were they decommissioned? Were they cast out of their own headquarters? Bixby had once again found himself in another increasingly-complicated question. Shaking his head before he got too far off track, he viewed the memos he’d been sent. The Chief Justice and Bixby had been conversing for some time through this, and Bixby had learned a lot about the Cog.

* * *

 

**From: The Chief Justice <cj@mingler.org>**

**To: inCog@mingler.org**

**Subject: State of Command**

**Good evening, B7-XXXX**

**I suppose now would be a fitting time to explain my current predicament—one that I have been forced to endure for the past few weeks. As you are perhaps already aware, I have fallen into disrepair from a—admittedly, imbecilic—mistake during your trial. The damage was worse than I imagined, and, unfortunately, I have enlisted a substitute to handle the trials while I recover. I am not aware of how long it will take for my replacement parts to come in, but my memory chip had been moved over to a computer before later being transferred to a temporary model. It is… jarring, to say the least, how my perspective has changed so drastically. If I am correct, I am about nine-and-a-half feet tall or two hundred eighty-nine centimeters. I have not responded for the past few days due to the need to adjust to this new model.**

**Remember to delete this message after reading it.**

**The Chief Justice**

* * *

 

Ah, the Chief still had such a stiff way of speaking—er, typing. Bixby supposed that was normal for a Cog, but it gave off the impression that the Chief Justice simply couldn’t relax. Perhaps it was justified considering the Cog Boss’ position, but… 

… wait, _a_ _temporary model?_

* * *

 

**From: The Chief Justice <cj@mingler.org>**

**To: inCog@mingler.org**

**Subject: Probable Meeting**

**Morning, Bono Bixby,**

**This new model has been… interesting, simply put. It has given me many strange looks from my subordinates, and they all appear to be handling my new appearance in a not-so-refined manner. I have been frequently mistaken for a Big Wig and the amount of times this has occurred is starting to get to me. So, I have suggested that, for the first time in a while, we speak in person. You know where the Lawbot Headquarters is, so please make your way there. I have instructed my Lawbots to not bother you, so you should have no issues.**

**If you do, please notify me, and I will deal with the offending Cog(s) promptly.**

**Be sure to delete this message.**

**The Chief Justice**

* * *

 

What had Bixby been given in those documents? Professor Nozzlewiz said they were important, but what exactly was written on them? The dog picked up the papers he’d been given over and began reading through them. They were exactly what he expected, sheets that documented the Chief Justice’s many broken parts and the need for replacement parts, but there was one specific paragraph that intrigued him.

**In light of the recent mishap during the trial of Bono Bixby, we have begun manufacturing new parts for the standard Cog Boss model. The amount of repairs required due to the repeated failings of the Senior Vice President and the Chief Financial Officer have left available Cog Boss parts scarce, meaning the time in which the replacement parts can be issued will be, unfortunately, extended by an extra month. However, due to the Chief Justice’s request to be brought back into command as soon as possible, we will be issuing a temporary Cog suit to transfer his chip to. The size—demanded by the Chief Justice himself—should be a foot taller than a Big Wig and no more than such. It should have a robe of the appropriate size and a gavel to match. As this is an order from the Chief Justice and Cog society would certainly fall apart without a** **_suitable_ ** **Cog leading the rest, we will be willing to give the Lawbot branch a heavy discount despite the construction of this entirely new model.**

“Only a foot taller than a Big Wig…” Bixby blinked, baffled. 

That got Bixby thinking: what did the Chief Justice even look like? They said only a foot taller, but assuming that the Cog Boss looked exactly the same… Goodness, the thought of that was jarring—only four-and-a-half  feet taller than himself—and it was a far bigger difference than he could’ve ever imagined.

“Well, standing around here won’t do me any good!” Bixby grabbed a bag and slung it over his shoulder.

Within seconds, he was bolting out the door, using another hole to jump straight to The Brrrgh. He thought about teleporting straight to Lawbot Headquarters, but decided that he’d need to grab gags first. The Chief Justice  _ did _ say he instructed his Cogs to leave Bixby be, but the dog figured it was better to be safe. Even with over a hundred laff points, Lawbots weren’t like Sellbots.

When the dog stepped into The Brrgh’s playground, his ears twitched as he caught the faint sound of metal treading across the ground. He turned his head to see the image of the Chief Justice himself in one of the tunnels. Too surprised to take note of his appearance, he shooed the Cog further into the tunnel and made a beeline for Polar Place.

“Someone could’ve seen you…!” Bixby said, glancing both ways.

The two sat on the sidewalk—the Chief Justice on a bench—finally meeting with each other after about a month of silence. The Cog waved a hand dismissively.

“The Brrrgh has been empty for a month, and Toons only ever gather extensively in Donald’s Dreamland for beanfests or Toontown Central.” 

The Chief Justice was right; Toons barely went to The Brrrgh unless it was to solve another court case or—Bixby shuddered at the thought—Lil’ Oldman called them for their last gag track.

“Fair enough!” The dog finally got a good look at The Chief Justice’s new model.

He was indeed a foot taller than a Big Wig and no more, though it was hard to tell with the Chief Justice sitting down. Even with the new height, however, the Cog looked essentially the exact same. He had the same hair, blindfold, robe, and that same old frown that made it hard for Bixby to tell what he was feeling. There was  _ one _ indication: a tiny arch of one of his eyebrows—intrigue, curiosity… at perhaps what Bixby thought of the new look?

“I’m not sure what the other Cogs saw,” Bixby said, tilting his head one way. “You look like how you normally do, just… smaller. I like it; I don’t need to tilt my head upwards so much to even speak to you.”

The frown on the Chief Justice’s face wasn’t as deep anymore. His eyebrows raised, and his stern face seemed to soften. He made a ‘ _ hmph _ ’ noise, almost looking… smug? The Chief Justice looked  _ smug? _

“I figured,” the Chief Justice said. “The last time I checked,  _ I  _ was the one with the blindfold.”

_ That _ made Bixby almost reel back in shock. 

“Was… Was that a  _ joke,  _ Your Honor?” 

The Cog soon brushed it off by presenting Bixby with another topic, and even though the dog went along with it, nothing distracted the Toon from the joke the Chief Justice made. That opened up so many more questions to him! It wasn’t your usual Pre-Cog Battle pun so likely it wasn’t a part of their programming—the Chief Justice wasn’t an average Cog so perhaps  _ his _ was so much more different and complex and interesting and-

“Bixby?”

Bixby yelped, taking his attention away from his notebook that had now been filled with theories of Cog programming.

“Y-Yes, Your Honor?” Bixby scrunched his eyebrows.

The Cog gave a thoughtful look for a moment.

“You can simply call me the Chief Justice,” he said.

Bixby’s face slowly brightened, and he flashed a wide smile. The Chief Justice huffed again, and Bixby recognized it as, although very brief, a laugh.

“Now, could you please put away your notebook?” he asked. “It’s quite rude to not look someone in the eye when they’re talking to you.”

“But-”

With a snort, the Cog covered his mouth; the Chief Justice had almost immediately caught the flaw behind his own words.  _ Now  _ he was laughing, his usual huff of amusement collapsing as he fell into a laughing fit.

“I know, that doesn’t quite work in this context, but you know what I meant for Pete’s sake!” 

Bixby laughed along. The Chief truly was a Toon-ish Cog.

 

 

 


End file.
